I fucking hate restaurants

After I stopped be quite so sick last night, I went to the Crown and Anchor. I really just wanted to get out of the house and I wasn’t feeling up to the Double Down. I think I made a poor choice. I got there before midnight, so it was still an older, dinner crowd. The kids don’t start piling in until after one. Some sport was being played on the television. Something that involves a ball somewhat shaped like an American football. I wasn’t paying too close attention. These old British men kept screaming “Game Over!” and other hoots and howls that put me very on edge. I fucking hate sports. I fucking hate brain dead idiots that scream over sports. I ordered a Guinness before I remembered that I need to stop drinking it (it’s brewed with fish guts) but I drank it anyway. I got a garden burger to eat. The burger came with some baked beans. That made absolutely no sense. I’m sure they were vegetarian (even though I’ve only seen the stuff with pork in it) but I didn’t touch them. They look like baby diarrhea. Next time I think I’ll just make some ramen at home and call it a night.